Strength
by Reusch17
Summary: Don't really have a good summary, but I can tell you that this is not a happy story and it deals with some intense subjects such as cutting.


**A/N- Thanks to Haruka-Chan 212 for proof reading this and giving me encouragement… Really appreciated. That having been said… this is not a very happy story.**

**Strength**

What is strength? How do you tell if someone is strong? Is it from looking at them? You can see they have muscles… but that's not the only form of strength, is it? No. While the mind almost immediately directs us towards a physical definition of strength… there is a more important one… emotional strength.

From looking at me you would say that I'm strong. I'm tall, muscular and have a general air of strength about me. And while I was a victim to this way of thinking… I have realized that I'm not strong at all. In fact I find that I'm ridiculously weak… pathetic even.

Its amazing how something you thought was so strong… so indelible can become victim to something that you would never have thought would be a threat. Crashing waves slowly, but surely erode rock cliffs. An egg is said to be indestructible when compressed from the ends, but squeeze it in your hand and all you're left with is a mess. And what about the heart? It pumps hard enough to circulate 4.7 liters of blood through the average human. Yet to me… it's the weakest muscle there is. All it takes is a few simple words and it shatters… like a glass window hit by a stone.

It was my heart that was my downfall.

It all started during a pleasant summer. I spent a lot of my time hanging out with friends… more importantly my best friend… Michiru Kaiou. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She still is in fact. And while I want to hate her after what she did to me… I find I can't. I never could.

As the summer passed I found I could no longer convince myself that I wasn't in love with her. I was. However I knew it wouldn't be returned so I kept it to myself. It wasn't that bad. We still had a great time together and I was content with that. I didn't want to ruin the friendship. It was important to me. It still is.

The summer came to a close and due to school and work we drifted apart a bit. We were unable to see each other as often as we would have liked. I finally got a day off so I told the gang that we should all get together and do something. Occasions like this were rare to come by after all. I told Michiru and she was really excited. She took a day off from work in order to spend it with me. She however had somehow missed that I had planned to spend that time with all my friends… not just her. I wish I had known that that was what she wanted. I would have made it so, but I knew that I hadn't spent time with any of my friends so I wanted to catch up with them all. Somehow it led to an argument between us that really didn't reveal what it was meant to. It seemed so petty at the time, but had a deeper meaning that I couldn't see.

We didn't talk for a week. It was long and I spent the time complaining to another friend about what had happened. This friend, being Michiru's roommate, informed me that the reason she was angry with me was because she was looking forward to being alone with me… because she had a crush on me. She liked me. I didn't know what to say. My friend told me not to tell Michiru that her secret had been told so I assured her it wouldn't, but now that I had this information… I had to somehow get it out of Michiru. To find out if it was true.

Later that week I called her and told her I wanted to apologize. We agreed to meet and I did as I said. I told her I was sorry for acting so childish… being careful to not let on to what I knew. She told me that it was alright, but that things had just become weird. I didn't know what she meant by weird, but I brushed it off because I was happy that she had forgiven me.

Things went back to normal... for the most part. Michiru was avoiding me a bit. Most people wouldn't have noticed, but I did. One evening I was online and so was Michiru. We started chatting and she brought up how things had gotten weird between us again. I couldn't let this go a second time so I inquired about it. Her response was possibly the most shocking thing I have ever received in my life…

"_Every time I'm with you… I want to kiss you."_

Even though I had been told that she liked me… I couldn't believe what she had just said. It was true… but it was hesitant. Before I could get anything else out of her she said goodbye and signed off.

I spent the entire weekend mulling over what to do about this. To be honest… I had never actually been in this position. I've never expressed my feelings… feelings like this… to someone before. By Monday I had made my decision. I gathered all my courage… all my strength and went over to her apartment. It was under the pretense of a regular evening of just watching a movie… but midway through… I did it… I kissed her. She returned it… slightly, but not in the way that I would have expected… or liked. At this point there was no backing out. I had reached the point of no return. I told her everything. Told her how I had fallen for her. I smiled at her, but it wasn't returned. Instead she frowned and told me that she did like me… but that she didn't want to jeopardize our friendship. She didn't want to risk that if ever we broke up… we could no longer be friends. In my mind I felt that we could be mature about that if it had happened, but I just sat there and listened to her excuses. That was when she told me that the reason she had left our online chat so abruptly the other night was because she had gone on a date… and that she liked the guy and was seeing him again. She told me that if I had maybe confessed sooner… she wouldn't be in another relationship and perhaps we could have had a chance. After all… she had apparently been giving me signs that she liked me all summer. Holding my hand when we walked… falling asleep on me when we watched a movie and other similar things. Problem was that she is an affectionate person and she does that kind of stuff with all her friends. I never thought that she would be doing that because she liked me.

As she talked I couldn't help, but listen instead to my own inner thoughts. Was it my fault? Did I miss my chance because I couldn't read the signs? If I had said something sooner about my feelings instead of keeping them bottled up, would we be together now? Was it my fault?

The logical part of my brain tried to help by telling me that she was actually the one with more experience. I had never been in a relationship, but she had. She knew this… she knew that I was a novice in this game. My brain told me that yes… maybe if I had said something it would be different now, but it also told me that she is partly to blame. She could have confessed too. However I was not in a logical mood. All I could think was… it's my fault and I messed up.

I tried to be as mature as possible. I stayed till the end of the movie and told her that everything was fine. We're still friends and this wouldn't change a thing. As the door to her apartment closed behind me I couldn't hold it anymore. I cried… I never cry. To me it is a sign of weakness and I didn't want anyone to see how weak I apparently was. I got in my car and was amazed that I made it home. There had been a few close calls because I just wasn't focused. It was also hard to see through all the tears. As soon as I got home I raced up to my room.

I spent the night staring at the ceiling and wondering about what could have been… if only I weren't such an idiot. It was all my fault. Eventually sleep overcame me.

The next morning… I was closed off. Closed off to my family… my friends… everyone. I cringed every time someone asked me what was wrong. I wanted nothing more then to cry out all the pain and hurt I was feeling, but instead I told them I was fine and resumed my pact of silence. Not knowing what to do to help me… people just stayed away from me. It was obvious from my expression that I was not to be trifled with that day.

As a matter of fact the day replayed itself for a week. The only day that was different was when I had actually been so depressed… so upset… that I had made myself physically ill. What little I had eaten was rejected by my body and that day I holed up in my room, skipping class and any human interaction at all.

By the end of the week I had cried more then I had thought was possible… especially for me. I placed a mask of calm on and continued as if nothing had happened. I went back to school and work and was a cheerful as I could be. It worked. No one asked me if I was alright anymore and life continued as it should of… on the outside.

I still blamed myself and couldn't get over it. When I had first gone over there I had told myself that even if she did reject me it didn't really matter. Things would just return to how they always were. No big deal. And yet two weeks later I still found myself crying for no reason. How could it have hurt so much? How was this even possible? I'm strong. This shouldn't have happened. It seemed that any physical wound I had incurred couldn't come close to what I was feeling now. That's when I decided to put that theory to the test.

The blade was so sharp that at first I felt nothing and saw nothing. Eventually a thin red line made its way across my arm. I watched how the blood slowly started to pool and then run down my skin, leaving a crimson tear in its wake. I never thought that I would find myself cutting, but at this time… it seemed like the only thing that made sense. It was a punishment for being so ignorant… and it was also a way to make the pain I felt justified. If I'm hurting I should be able to see the wound that's the cause, right?

Soon there were cuts and scabs everywhere, marring my skin. I negated suspicion by telling people I had cut myself at work. It wasn't so far fetched. There are a lot of things in a mechanics shop that are sharp and could easily slice through flesh. They all believed my excuses and went about their own business. I could tell though that they held a bit of doubt about my words, but they never pushed it. Perhaps they didn't want to believe that their friend was cutting themselves. Or perhaps they just didn't want to be the one to deal with it because they didn't know how.

Months passed and I thought that I was finally getting over it. I was cutting less although there were still times where I needed to feel that blade against my skin. I was once again in my room on my computer and there she was. We hadn't spoken a lot since the "incident" but I figured I would hold true to my word and try to maintain the friendship. We started talking and somehow another argument ensued. I'm not sure how it happened… but it was my fault again. I was enraged by my stupidity… I had to hit something… to punch something. To make something else hurt. I couldn't however hit anything in my room… the noise would have brought unwanted attention and I also did not want to destroy any of my possessions, so I hit what I though could withstand it… myself. I struck my left forearm repeatedly. I was strong… I could take it.

The next morning I woke up and discover that my entire forearm was covered in a huge, purple bruise. Somehow I managed to again make an excuse that people would believe. I blocked a kick in karate with my arm. No one questioned how the last time I had been to Karate was four days before the bruise appeared. Once again they saw only what they wanted to. It got worse as time went by and by the end of the week my friends had convinced me to go to the hospital to make sure I hadn't broken anything. I was lucky… the bone wasn't broken or fractured, but it was still rather sever. I had a hematoma… a hard lump that's a collection of blood from internal bleeding. I couldn't believe that I had done this to myself. All because I had upset her… because I had made her sad.

My self destructive path continued as I found myself seeking ways to vent my frustrations. Punching bags became my victims, but at the cost of the skin on my knuckles. I would keep hitting the bag, taking more and more skin off, but each punch felt so good.

One day some friends of mine had found some fairly thin wooden boards, about a ¼ of an inch thick, and we all took turns punching them and trying to break them. Not everyone was able to do so… but when it came to my turn… it wasn't a problem. The board splinted and it felt so good to destroy something. Not just hit it… but to destroy it. I kept doing it, each board breaking and making the bruises on my knuckles worse and worse. I only stopped when I thought that I might have broken a bone. Even now as I look at my knuckles the permanent discoloration brings back the memories of how much torture I put my strong body through.

I don't know what made me finally stop. Maybe enough time had passed that I could finally let it go. It had been several months… eight to be more precise. Eight months. Had I really been sulking and brooding like a child for eight months? I felt so pathetic.

Even worse… I had become what I abhorred. A self centered brat. Everything was about me. I use to hate when someone would complain about being single. My immediate response use to be shut up and go do something about it. Yet here I was… crying over how pathetic my life was and doing nothing to make it better.

It was then that I made a decision. I needed to get back in the game. I needed to stop my pining and get on with life.

I was however still wounded and decided to take it slow. I thought what better way then to just sign up for one of those stupid online dating things. Couldn't hurt could it? My friends encouraged me to do it and so I did. After a month of no success I finally found someone. Someone who I thought would help me forget all about Michiru. She was sweet and charming. She shared a lot of my interests surprisingly. After another month of talking to each other constantly we decided to meet in person. She gave me her phone number and I called it. I got her voice mail so I left a message. I waited… and waited… and waited for her to call me back. Nothing. I emailed her and waited again. Still nothing. I never heard from her again.

Rejected again. My track record wasn't turning out so good. Once again I fell into a depression. I wasn't strong enough to control all the emotions that were coursing through me. Once again the razors came out and met my flesh. More skin was removed from my knuckles and I once again felt weak and pathetic.

Why was it so hard to find someone who loved me? I knew that I had friends and family who loved me… but that wasn't the love I was searching for. The love I was searching for always eluded me as soon as I came close to finding it. Maybe I'm just destined to be alone. Maybe I'm not strong enough to love… so I stopped trying.

Friends constantly tried to get me to go out and meet people, but I always came up with an excuse not to. What was the point? Clearly there was something wrong with me. No one wanted to be with me so why should I bother them?

I officially had no self esteem left. Whatever I had possessed before was taken away by Michiru and destroyed by another. How could this be?

I was the strong one. I was the one that people always felt intimidated by. I was the one that people would bet money on in a fight. I was the one who never cried. I was the one that other people would come to with their problems.

Now I was the one that somehow always made people feel guilty about their relationships. I didn't want to bring my misery upon my friends, but it kept happening none the less. They would mention their relationship and I would make some stupid comment that would get them apologizing for making me feel bad… well I hadn't before, but now I did. I felt bad, that because I was so miserable and alone, I made my friends feel bad. They shouldn't feel bad just because I'm a pathetic loser. No. That wasn't right. I assured them that they should feel free to talk about their girlfriends or boyfriends, it was fine. I told them I was happy for them… because it was true. I was genuinely happy for them and as a matter of fact it gave me a small ray of hope to hear how in love they were. If there was one thing I wasn't… it was someone who wanted everyone else to be miserable just like them. No that was something that I would never wish upon anyone. My misery is my own

There was another reason I felt bad. I felt bad that I was blowing everything out of proportion. Sure I'm miserable and feel that my life sucks… but in comparison to what other people have been through… my problems are trivial. As aware as I am of this fact, I still can't help, but to pity myself. I'm still a self centered whiny child who can only see their own problems and can't seem to let them go. How weak could I be? How much more pathetic could I get? Is this really where I've ended up in life? Being someone I despise? Being someone who I thought was strong, but really… was as weak as the people I had once ridiculed.

How were you able to do this to me Michiru? How were you, the gentle and delicate Michiru able to reduce me… the strong and tough Haruka Tenoh into nothing more then a fragile being? How?

Strength… Physical or emotional what is it that defines strength? As far as I'm concerned strength can only be defined by its weaknesses. You can't have one without the other. So no matter how strong I may look… it's merely a façade… my body is strong, but my heart is weak and one can't survive without the other. Yin and yang… light and dark… strength and weakness.


End file.
